


Ventus

by Slenderlock



Series: Cacoethes [4]
Category: Night at the Museum (2006 2009)
Genre: M/M, Not much plot, just cute, snuggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 16:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3494756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slenderlock/pseuds/Slenderlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>For the first time in a long time, they dream. </em>
</p>
<p>"I worship you."</p>
<p>"Me? Godlike?" Octavius scoffed. "Ridiculous."</p>
<p>“If everyone in this place was a star, you’d be Venus.” Jedediah smiled, ruffling Octavius’s hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ventus

It wasn’t often that they got to sleep.

Sure, some in the museum equated sleep to the hours spent frozen in daylight, but that was never truly sleep. None of them dreamed- and as they only had the nights to spend alive, they hardly ever felt exhaustion.

And then someone actually tried to rob the museum.

She didn’t get far, of course. There were a few complications-she’d anticipated just how _exciting_ things got in the museum at night and had been spying in on Larry for quite some time- so the usual trick of setting Rexie on whatever intruder had picked the museum for their next hit didn’t work. Which, of course, meant that none of the museum exhibits, nor Larry, knew exactly what to do.

The result? Utter pandemonium followed by the eventual capture- and subsequent arrest- of their would-be-robber.

By the end of it, even Attila had decided to settle back in his exhibit for an evening rest.

Given the fact that the other humans were roughly thirty times their size and that the museum was therefore about thirty times as big, neither Jedediah nor Octavius had the energy to stand after the ordeal- let alone walk. Larry was kind enough to bring them back to their exhibits, but didn’t stay to chat.

They fell asleep together inside one of the few actual walled structures in the cowboy diorama, Octavius’s cape draped over them both. And as the sun crept through the window and fell onto the two dioramas, they remained fossilized in their dreams.

o0O0o

_As he sinks lower and lower into his own mind, he stops fighting the primal instinct telling him to stay awake and falls into the dunes of dreams and-_

_And dunes they are. Beautiful dunes._

_A breeze isolates itself from the Wind and brushes past his ears, down his neck. It is warm, inviting. He inhales, and the breeze soars up, kicking his hair up, rustling under his jacket, teases at his collar- he exhales and it disperses out, through his sleeves, back into the Wind. The Wind swallows it up, accepts it, carries on._

_He kneels down on the sand and draws his fingers through the grains._

_They are not yellow or tan, as he knows them to be. Instead, he sees as he brings them up to his eyes, they are sparkling with color. Each grain is a different hue, and they seem to spill into each other even as they rest in his palm. Thick reds, sour blues, biting greens. They are beautiful._

_They do not chafe against his skin as the sand he knows does, but slip through the gaps between his fingers as if they were liquidus, spill back into the dune. The last grains rest on his palm for a fleeting second, only to be swept away by another stray breeze, carried off to share their colors with another dune._

_His feet, he notices, are slowly slipping down into the dune. He wrenches them out, knowing what will happen if he stays too long here._

_The sky is warm. The sky is utterly dark and warm and yet he can see the stands below him- they are almost glowing, giving off their own light and colors in the darkness. He sees the sand stream down the sides of the dune, glint as the colors tumble together, mixing and churning, and he thinks that at one point they might have been separate- the purple that screams to the indignant sky, the orange so bright it seems to burn the sand underneath it as it falls, the yellow that somehow retains its last vestiges of hope through the tumultuous roars of colors, sending golden light up to the midnight sky-_

_But it’s not midnight, of course. There is no time here. He can wait here for hours, days, weeks, and nothing will change. The wind, which comes from nowhere and races to the end, will keep running, dancing, soaring._

_He sucks one foot out of the sand and then another, planting them back down again atop the dune. As his foot begins to sink again, the sands around it kick up, latching onto the Wind and racing back between his legs. He squints into the Wind, and there-_

_Where the sand meets the sky, there is something else._

_Where the sand is colors swirling and shifting, rolling and falling and the sky is nothing, nothing but ink and dark and deep, so deep that it is almost blue- the something out there shines, it glows- it glimmers, it ripples._

_And it is white._

_It is pure, it is singular, and it is so beautiful that he knows at once he is meant to go there, he is meant to find it and embrace it, to become one with it._

_He takes a step towards it._

_The wind howls in protest, begs him to stay. It screams and pleads, grates sand over his eyes, roars and shrieks at him to listen, damn it, LISTEN-_

_He picks up his other foot. At the loss of balance, the Wind takes its opportunity, pushing against him as hard as it can. But he digs his feet into the sand and plunges onward, towards the light._

_Each step feels like an hour, and the walk feels like a year._

_The Wind is cold, now. It bites through his jacket and his shirt, pushes his hat off his head. It almost seems to be pushing him back with intent. But he knows- he doesn’t know how, but he knows- it is not malicious._

_Perhaps it is pushing him back for his own good. Telling him to stop, to abandon the light and stay content with the sands. Perhaps it is trying to save him._

_He ignores the warning, because it doesn’t know, it can’t know- the something out there, the light, he needs it. And it needs him too, he can feel it pulling at him, impossibly._

_The sand does not fall anymore. It is still, silent. The wind, though it blows harder than ever against him, does not touch the dunes._

_He looks to the horizon again and sees it- the light, the whatever it is, he can almost make it out. It is too bright for him to see, but there’s something in there, whether it’s trapped or there by choice. And he’s drawn to it, he squints his eyes and he can almost see it._

_The sand heaves._

_He falls to his side, lurches, as the grains collectively churn under his feet. Like gigantic waves, the sand tosses itself from side to side. A wave crests behind him, crashing down spectacularly._

_He presses on, the light pulling him forward._

_Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thinks the light should be blinding, as bright as it is. But it doesn’t hurt him. It’s so beautiful, so radiant, so amazing- he can’t tear his eyes away. Feet stumble and slip as the sand churns like the sea, trying desperately to push him back. If it’s a warning, he doesn’t care._

_He draws his feet out, shoving them forward again and again, Wind pushing against him with all its might, drying his eyes, nearly ripping his hair out. He doesn’t care- nothing else matters but the light, but the horizon._

_The sand beneath his feet is still. The Wind doesn’t move it anymore, because the colors and dunes have boiled down to rock, hard and brittle under his feet. His shoes slide against it, unable to gain traction. There is nothing on the horizon but a line between the ground and the sky, broken by the light._

_His hands flatten on the ground, his elbows bend and his muscles strain and quiver. His weight is suddenly too much for his arms, for his anything. He strains to push himself up off the ground, arms trembling, legs aching. Exhaustion overwhelms him, threatens to overtake every other function his brain could otherwise devote itself to. The weight is extraordinary, it encompasses him. His hands dig into the ground, which bends under his fingers. Sand chafes against his fingers, leaving imprints on his skin. He can feel the calluses building even now under his thumbs._

_But he sees the light again._

_It almost shines brighter as it sees him looking, almost as if it hears him, as if it’s alive. He can feel it, almost. It pulls him closer, like it’s begging._

_He needs to know what it is that could possibly be this beautiful._

_All at once, the weight means nothing to him. The pain is merely another obstacle he must ignore and press past. He folds his legs under themselves and pushes the rest of his body up-_

_And the weight lifts._

_He is closer now, he can almost see it. The thing, whatever it is, it understands him. He knows it, somehow, he knows he has to find it. He knows he needs to see what it is, what in the world of heaven and earth that could dare to exist as beautifully as it does._

_It hums, now- or perhaps it always has and he’s never been close enough to sense it. The sound thrums through his body, rattling his bones._

_He squints first, tries to distort his eyes in any way he can because it’s too bright to look at fully, too bright, so bright, so beautiful-_

_Sound, impossibly, explodes. It breaks through the muted air, rattles the ground under his feet. The voice isn’t a voice, he knows, somehow. Not truly. It might sound like a voice, but nothing in the world could sound like that, not if it tried. It carries all the sounds of a throat and tongue swirling together to create music- it’s music, that’s what it is._

_The voice is music that seeps over the sand- because the ground is sand again, flat though it is- and rumbles under his feet. He cannot hear himself think, it is so loud._

_Something clicks, then, and he knows that he is running out of time._

_He digs his feet into the ground, propels himself forward, even though he can feel something pushing him back. He is so close, so close, so close-_

_The thing surrounded by light is close enough for him to see, and it is a person, reaching out, hand and fingers wide._

_He reaches for it, he can almost touch it-_

_The thing in the light sees him, fingers nearly grasping his own-_

_And their fingers are almost touching and he cannot breathe and there is no more ground beneath his feet and at once he knows what this thing is and why he is so drawn to it-_

“Gah!”

Waking with a start, Jedediah shot upwards, chest heaving. The figure beside him stirred, and after blinking a few times he deduced exactly who it was.

“Ah, good.” Octavius huffed. “Took you long enough.” And then hands were over him, slapping the hat over his head, shoving him into a proper upright position.

“Would you stop that- what-”

“Night came nearly an hour ago- and you’ve done nothing but snore since.”

“Oh.” Jedediah frowned, rubbing the side of his face sleepily. “I was asleep?”

“When I woke at sunset, yes.” Octavius folded his arms. “And I had to watch you sleep for almost an hour before you finally woke up.”

“Why didn’t you just wake me up, then, if it was such a damn inconvenience to you?” Jedediah demanded, before succumbing to the yawn that had been threatening to overtake him.

“Oh.” Octavius looked to the wall of the western building. “I didn’t want to.”

“Clearly you did.”

Octavius huffed.

“You looked… peaceful,” he muttered, reluctantly.

“Aww.”

“Hush. You’d have been irritated, anyway.”

“Awwwww.”

Octavius scowled as Jedediah grinned. “I was under the impression you detested being called cute.”

“Hmm, not from you.”

“Should I feel privileged?”

“Eh, probably.” Jedediah stretched his arms and laid back down.

“I believe you were dreaming,” Octavius prompted, anxious to change the subject. “You woke rather violently- a nightmare, perhaps?”

“A nightmare?”

“You weren’t dreaming about the sand, were you?” Octavius asked, looking closely over Jedediah’s face.

“Sand,” Jedediah repeated, and remembered.

“I thought so.” Octavius sighed. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of-”

“There was- Octy, it was amazing.” Jedeiah beamed, sitting up a little straighter. Octavius, who had fully prepared for an onslaught of emotions, merely blinked. “There was this- this giant desert. An’ I was just there, an’- there was somethin’ out there, Octy.”

“Something?” Octavius repeated, frowning curiously. “What was it?”

“It was- it was Venus.”

“Venus.”

“I knew it had to be a star- but then it wasn’t, it was like… it was like lookin’ at the sun.”

“You once told me the sun was beautiful,” Octavius murmured.

“She was.” Jedediah sighed. “Prettier than anythin’ I’ve ever seen.”

“More beautiful than I?” Octavius pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Why, Jedediah, I might call you unfaithful.”

“Oh, hush up, you. You know what I mean.” Jedediah ruffled a hand through Octavius’s hair, which was unobscured by his helmet. Jedediah supposed that it must have fallen off when they’d arrived, because it was lying just a few arm lengths away from where they were sitting.

“I do.” Octavius nodded.

“She was talking. I dunno what she said,” he added, before Octavius could ask. “But it didn’t even seem real. Like, I dunno. It sounded like a person speakin’, but I could tell it weren’t.” He sighed. “I almost reached her.”

“And you didn’t?” Octavius finished.

“No.” Jedediah shook his head. “I was so close.”

“Then I’m sorry you woke.”

“Yeah.” Jedediah stared at the ceiling. “Me too.”

“How did you know it was Venus?”

“Dunno. I just knew.”

“I see.”

“I knew it more’n I’ve ever known anything before in my life.” Jedediah shook his head. “That was Venus, I _know_ it was.”

“If you say so.”

“You told me ‘bout her, remember? All that time ago?”

“I did, yes.”

“She’s, what, supposed to stand for beauty? Victory?”

“Fertility, as well. And, of course, love.”

“Huh.”

“Were you frightened?”

“No.” Jedediah shook his head. “Dunno why, but it just felt… right. Like coming home.”

“The gods are marvelous creatures- beautiful, yes, but terrifying in their own rights.”

“I don’t… really believe in gods,” Jedediah admitted. “I mean, most o’ the crew out there’s good with the god thing, but I never bought it much.”

“Oh?”

“Nah. I mean, with your gods, you look at ‘em and you try to be like the good ones, and you try not to be like the bad ones. To be a good person, I mean.”

“I suppose, yes.” Octavius nodded.

“I think it’s better to do that with people you meet.”

“How do you mean?”

“You know. Like, I see Gigantor and I think that he’s loyal to his friends, an’ stuff. An’ I see Angus, an’ he’s always really generous. But when I look at that ol’ Cassius guy I remember that he was a liar- an’ so then I can think to myself not to be like that.”

“That is fascinating.” Octavius cocked his head. “So you worship people?”

“I guess you could say that.” Jedediah shrugged. “I don’t just worship anyone I meet, though.”

“I see.”

“I mean, I worship _you_.”

“Me?” Octavius scoffed. “Godlike?” He sniffed. “Ridiculous.”

“If everyone in this place was a star, you’d be Venus.” Jedediah smiled, ruffling Octavius’s hair. “Hey, maybe it was you I was dreamin’ about.”

“Perhaps.” Octavius shrugged. “Though I doubt that.”

_Bam-bam-bam!_

They were both jolted out of the sleepy haze that had settled over them by the sound of someone slamming on the door.

“Oi! Lovebirds!”

“What th- _Angus?_ ”

“You done in there?” Angus shouted through the wood. “I came back ‘bout half an hour ago an’ you two were still sleepin’.”

Jedediah raised an eyebrow at Octavius, who suddenly found the floor pattern to be incredibly interesting.

“We’re up, we’re up,” he called to the other cowboy, “but don’ wait up for us or anythin’.”

“If you say so,” Angus called back. “Want me to tell the others you’re out?”

“Hey, yeah, thanks!”

“Yes, Angus,” Octavius added, “thank you for your kind offer.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jedediah couldn’t see him, but he was sure Angus was grinning on the other side of the wall. “Have fun, now.” Angus knocked once more on the wood before his footsteps began to fade.

“We were both sleepin’, hmm?”

“Jedediah-”

“Because I seem to recall you tellin’ me you woke up at sunset.”

“Jede-”

“Now, why would that be, hmm?”

“I merely-”

“You had a dream, didn’t you?” Jedediah poked Octavius in the side. “Didn’t you?”

Octavius sighed, knowing there was no sense denying it. “Yes.”

“Go on, then.”

“What?”

“Well, you gotta tell me what it is.” Jedediah rolled his eyes. Octavius shook his head. “Oh, come on, I told you mine. You know, all that Venus stuff.”

Octavius shook his head again.

“Octy, man, come on.” Jedediah sighed. “Can’t be that bad, right? What happened?”

“I’d… rather not say.” Octavius looked straight at the ground.

“Pff.” Jedediah poked him again. “Why’d you rather not say?”

_“I’d rather not say.”_

“Fine, you jackalope. Keep your dream to yourself.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’ worry, it’s a good thing.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Jedediah fell back onto the ground, yawning again. Really, it was much too early to be arguing, even just a little.

“Hmm,” he hummed, “Octy, c’mere.”

Not waiting for Octavius’s response, Jedediah grabbed his arm and tugged him down. With an undignified noise that Octavius would later deny ever producing, he fell back down beside Jedediah.

“So you think I’m cute?” Jedediah prompted, wrapping his arms around Octavius’s waist and snuggling up behind him.

“I didn’t say that- I said you looked peaceful.” Nevertheless, Octavius didn’t make a move to change their position.

“Yeah, but you were thinkin’ it.”

Octavius sighed in defeat. “Yes, perhaps I do believe you to be-” He hesitated, as the word was particularly asanine and juvenile. “Cute,” he finished, eventually.

“You’d better prove it, then, kemosabe.”

“What?”

“Mm. Remind me every once in a while.”

“You want me to periodically tell you you’re cute?”

“Sounds about right, yeah.”

“I’m going to regret saying it in the first place, aren’t I?”

“Probably.”

“ _Asino_.”

“Hey, I know what that one means!”

“Oh, hush, you.”

Silence. And then-

“Hey, Octy?”

“What?”

“We ain’t goin’ nowhere tonight, right?”

“I had assumed not.”

“Good.”

“Yes, good. Now hush, I’m trying to sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“ _Goodnight,_ Jedediah.”

“Night, jackalope.”

**Author's Note:**

>  _Asino_ : ass  
>  _Ventus_ : wind, rumor, favor
> 
> The tense change was intentional (present tense for Jedediah's dream).
> 
> Yes yes jackalopes are mythical creatures and yes they were feared [but cmon look at this cutie](http://givegoodgift.ca/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/073671_015_b.jpg)
> 
> Sorry this isn't super long, I just wanted to write them being all cute :3 I just saw the third movie (which was one of the gayest thing I've ever seen _shut the fuck up "hypnotic blue eyes" and "it feels good doesn't it jedediah" and "hold my hand" just fuck me up_ So I'll be writing something for that, but it won't take place in the Cacoethes series- BUT I think I might also write an alternate NATM 3 that would fit in with the Cacoethes series (i.e. they'd be together during the whole thing). Dunno if I'll actually do that one, we'll see???????
> 
> as always: no beta so all mistakes are mine, leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed, and thanks for reading!!


End file.
